


Visits of Work and Pleasure

by mementomoe



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Ambiguous Warrior of Light, Confessions, F/M, Flirting, M/M, Other, Pining, Second person POV, a bit of hurt/comfort, pre-heavensward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-14 06:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoe/pseuds/mementomoe
Summary: Or Five Times the Warrior of LIght Failed To Confess, and One Time They Did. Set Pre-Heavensward





	Visits of Work and Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meynara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meynara/gifts).



You’ve forgotten how cold it is. While the Black Shroud can see snow from time to time, it melts within a few days. Northern Vylbrand rarely gets more than hail, and rain is the only precipitation Thanalan sees.

Coerthas, however, is always cold. You’ve heard that it froze often during winters, that snow was common, but nothing like this.

Still, you force yourself to ignore the cold as you walk. The way the snow crunches under your boots.

Unlike the rest of Eorzea, the joy from the push back against the Garleans and destruction of that Allagan superweapon does little to change the few faces you’ve seen so far. Perhaps it’s their own war with the dragons still continues, or perhaps the news hasn’t come for them yet.

Either way, you want to return to the one friend and ally you made in Ishgard. Tell him the news, if he had not heard it already.

Pretend you don’t have a lofty title now. The Warrior of Light. You like it well enough, but it feels a bit too much for now. You need a few more days to adjust to it.

Soon, you see the blue glow of the Aetheryte, and you know you are almost at Dragonhead. You’ll have a place to stay, if for some time. While you attuned to it in the past, a habit you got into when you became a scion, it’s not one you would like to teleport to without warning. Haurchefant is pleasant, and several other residents are, but you found some to be as stiff and unfriendly as their compatriots in the Observatorium and Whitebrim. A stranger appearing so suddenly could cause harm to one or more people.

As soon as you walk in, you see several faces you got to know when you first came. You greet a few, and when asked about your reason, you mention that you wanted to speak with a friend, with the commander.

Yaelle laughs. “I need not guide you to his office. He tends to be there in the afternoons.”

You follow her hint. The chill disappears as soon as you close the door behind you. It’s not the fire nearby, if you’re honest with yourself, but the bright smile on the Commander’s face as soon as he sees you, gaze just above a set of books on his desk.

He speaks your name. You’re surprised he remembers, if only for a second. “Have you need of me? What brings you to Coerthas my friend?”

In your head, you had a few things to say. The fact he almost recites one fantasy of yours makes you almost follow it next, but you remember it for only that. “I… ah… wanted to bring news of elsewhere.”

Haurchefant stands up and moves to usher you close. “Yes, yes, I heard of the spectacle that was you retaking the Stone Vigil, and how you and Masters Cid and Alphinaud flew off together. Not without fighting another dragon, of course. I’m surprised that a heretic managed to play the part so well none suspected. Please, sit down. Might I offer you the Dannifen’s Joy you got me? Or would that be an insult where you’re from? Offering the gifter with the gift?”

Dannifen’s Joy? You did not offer him any gift, but one of the knights, Aurelle you think she was, said she had bought something for him, and you had helped hand it to the cook.

There was some mention of favors, and not wanting to appear such now you think back to it. Had your name been mentioned as the one who purchased it? You hardly think you could afford to buy a cup of it back then — even now, you’re respected by the alliance, not rich — let alone a bottle.

You don’t know how to phrase the truth right, at least for now, so you just shake your head. This drink must be precious to him.

It’s sweeter than you expected. He’s a commander, so you expected something more like ale or whisky. Instead, it is a mead. He tells you about how it’s made, a bright smile on his face as he does so. “It’s a favorite of my family. I grew up having my father give me a glass when I went to his functions.” He pauses. “Ah, but I assume you did not come here to have me talk about mead and my family. What news did you wish to share with me?”

You look into the glass, afraid of sharing too much with him, or saying something ill-timed, such as the way he glows brighter than the sun. He may be no classic beauty with where you’re from, but his kindness and determination meant an easy friendship was made while you helped him.

And a bit of an infatuation.

That his offer of sharing a prized bottle of mead with you does not help.

“You know two of three pieces already. I had helped recover the enterprise, and I did fell Garuda. However, after that, things got complicated.”

You start with how Garuda didn’t fully dissipate, that the Ixal even called forth Titan and Ifrit with the help of captured followers. And of Ultima Weapon, Gaius’s ultimatum, and Operation Archangel.

He listens intently, taking a sip from his glass of Danifen’s joy every now and then. But as soon as you mention that the Alliance believes the Seventh Astral Era to have begun, he bursts into a smile. “Why, my dear friend, to hear you have done all this on your own, when you could have asked for help. I would have gladly returned the favor I so sorely took of you before asking, I would do anything to help.”

To hear such an offer makes you give off your own smile. He’s too nice sometimes. “I suppose next time, I may request it. I am surprised you had no visitors. Castrum Centri was also a target, though not my own. I suppose most teleported via Aetheryte or timed their trip through Coerthas to not need a stop.”

Haurchefant shakes his head. “If there is anything else, another cup, perhaps?”

Another cup of this mead would be nice if you could spend more time with him. Over the story, however, you nearly emptied your own as well, and you can already feel the early effects of the drink.

“I must go,” you say. “I am certain the Scions will have some task for me soon enough.”

You start to turn around, only for Haurchefant to grab your hand. His cheeks have more pink on them than usual. “Please, come visit when you are free,” he says. You can see his blue eyes clearly. He looks almost pleading.

How can you say no? “I will.”

He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips.

You pull away in surprise. This is just the drink. He can’t flirt like this. Can he?

As soon as your hand is free, you teleport to Horizon, but the look in his eyes and the feel of his lips against your hand repeat in your head as if you were echoing into your own past.

There was definitely an infatuation, and you were not going to fight it.

* * *

 

The next time you head to Camp Dragonhead, you teleport with a tin of cocoa from Limsa. It is not expensive, but you’ve heard that Ishgardians love the drink, and you know the one who made this tin, and mixed it with cinnamon and a hint of pepper. Perhaps he’d like that.

No one bats an eye as you appear. You start to move toward Haurchefant’s office, but you stop as you see him spar with one of his knights. It almost looks like an actual fight, but when he parries, you can tell the blade is blunted. It also is dull. You’ve heard his title. Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller. He must take good care of his sword if that’s the case, whether or not it gets much use in battle.

You watch every movement he makes. This is not the zeal he fought with before, to save his friend. He matches the blows, but doesn’t push against him.

It’s training, but not for him.

You clap in excitement. You don’t want to cheer for him, but it’s quite a nice sight to behold.

Immediately, Haurchefant turns to you and drops his sword. His partner doesn’t notice and hits his arm.

“Peace, peace,” he says. “You have won for now. I certainly have other matters at hand, Ser.” He puts his hand on his arm where the sword hit him. “I did not expect you to come, but please, come and rest. It must be quite a shock to come from, I’m assuming is Thanalan.”

Before you can speak, he takes your hands and pulls you to his office. He offers everything, more of the mead, blankets, he even jokes about instead moving to his bedchambers.

You think about replying to the joke in the affirmative, but you’re not sure he’d take it well.

“I am not here just for you,” you say. You reach into your bag, but continue speaking. “I came for the Ixal, first. And Garuda. However, I thought you would like this, since I cannot stay too long.”

You find the can of cocoa powder and hand it over quick. “I hope it is to your liking.”

He takes the gift and opens it. A small dusting of the cocoa powder lifts and covers his nose.

“Cocoa powder,” he says. “How did you know my truest vice? I love mead, but hot cocoa… Well, it’s one of the things I make well.” He sniffs it. “And this has more as well. I’ve never had more than the plain goods.” He pauses. “Though did you mention Garuda?”

You nod your head. “After the Ultimate Weapon, the beast tribes are more worried than before. I’ve already had to face Ifrit a second time. I’m certain Titan will appear again. I’m going to find the Ixal's aetheryte to the Howling Eye. I must fight Garuda again, and a few other echo-havers will join me to fell her again.”

You get up again. “I’ll have more time after. I’m certain others can carry the news if it’s timely.”

“I wish you best of luck. And remember, Dragonhead will forever be your home in Coerthas should you need it.”

A warm hearth and warm drink. You have every intention to finish this fight as soon as possible.

* * *

 

It takes the rest of the day to get to the Aetheryte, and a few more bells for the others to help clear the way. It’s a long fight against Garuda before you manage to disperse her aether once again.

While Arenvald chooses to return to the Waking Sands immediately, you take the slow path back to Dragonhead. You have your messenger. You’re not sure exactly what time it is when you return to Dragonhead, though it is the barest amount of guards to welcome you back. You slip into the kitchen, in hopes that maybe there is something there to eat, along with the fire to lull you to sleep.

Haurchefant must have some power to see the future, because he waits for you there. On top of the stove, he pokes some bacon around, along with what appears to be an omelette of sorts.

Or perhaps it is his own breakfast he makes.

You notice that he’s not in his armor, but instead a pale blue shirt made of — you think —- karakul wool. He also wears some well-fitted trousers with some sort of etching or something on them. Alone, it’s not warm enough for outside, but there is also a coat of some sort laying on a chair.

“Ah, morning?” you say. He doesn’t seem focused like he did earlier, maybe yesterday? But he did not seem to hear you enter.

“Good morning to you as well. I pray you were not too hurt by the fight.”

“What time is it? Have you slept?”

“It’s about a bell until morning shift, I believe the fourth bell after midnight just sounded. As for sleep, how could I when I know you threw yourself into danger again. Thank the Fury you’re safe.” He closes his eyes for a second. “I suppose this should become breakfast for two then.”

“I’ll sleep here for a day, most likely, if there’s a room for me.”

He smiles as he finds more bacon and another few eggs. “There is always room for you. If there isn’t, I’d be like to give you my own room to sleep in. I can find another place in that situation.”

Or perhaps he could sleep beside you. Maybe more, but you wouldn’t ask of that.

“Breakfast, and then I can leave you to rest. Should you need care, I do have several chirurgeons here. Though I must admit I also wanted to wait to try this new cocoa until you were here. Breakfast with me, and let me do so.”

You nod your head. His voice seems to make everything you worry about go away. While he prepares food, you mention the plans for the scions. How they plan to move to Mor Dhona, and accept the fact that most with any power in Eorzea know of their existence.

He smiles as he listens. You notice he pours milk into a small pot and puts it on a hook over the open fireplace as he talks.

“I have every intention of helping, should Mistress Warde accept it. And since you are here, I believe we shall have that cocoa for our drink this morning.”

You put your hand on his bicep. “Ah, please, you should probably not do that. I intend it as a treat.”

He always wears the chainmail whenever you’ve visited before, but now, when he’s in a woolen shirt, you feel more. He has some good muscle. You should know that, but feeling him like this only confirms it.

“It’s hot cocoa,” he says. That smile is still on his face. “What reason could I have to not drink it with a nice breakfast?”

You remember the fact there’s dried dragon pepper in it, but it’s meant as a surprise. “Ah, the mix of flavors is not exactly one meant to be had with something else, and I would hate for the flavors to be lost next to an omelette and bacon.”

“I see. Then I suppose a palate cleanser as well. Some milk alone would be quite pleasant.”

You help him prepare the rest, getting plates and a tray, four cups, and a fork and knife for each of you. The two of you end up eating in his office as he starts to look over a paper with some important looking seal on it. He takes a long sip of the cocoa, as if it was cocoa alone in the mug, and his eyes widen in surprise.

A few drops spill onto other papers as his hand jerks back with the mug still in it.

Haurchefant swallows the cocoa quickly, though coughs shortly after. After a few quick pants, he takes a sip of the plain milk, not as big as the previous one. A bit of sloshing and another gulp, and you see Haurchefant laugh.

“Ah, I see why you asked such a thing,” he says. “Do not mistake that for distaste, but I never thought of using spice in a sweet, so it took me by surprise. It is quite splendid, though.”

Splendid. He loves that word.  _He’s_ splendid.

“I promise to drink it slower, so I can enjoy it better.”

You nod your head. “I suppose I should have warned you. Including spice in sweets is quite popular in Ul’dah and Limsa Lominsa these days. I’m used to such a thing, expecting not just cinnamon and ginger in sweets, but also pepper, and even rock salt. It helps appreciate the sweetness more when you mix it, I believe is what they say.”

He sets the paper aside and puts his hand on your cheek. “I thank you for this. It is precious, and I shall know what to say when my brothers brag of trying such a thing when it reaches the Crozier’s stands.”

You end up not sleeping in Dragonhead, but instead you teleport away after you breakfast with Haurchefant. The Quicksand’s inn is enough for you for now.

* * *

 

You decide there are too many primals. Not just the three you have faced twice now, but Leviathan, and that semi-primal-thing Moggle Mog. Honestly, you think maybe you need to redefine the meaning of primal if that’s the case. Knowing your luck, you’ll have to face Ramuh as well eventually.

All you want is a day off. You’ll even take a few hours. When you were given the title of Warrior of Light, you didn’t realize that it meant doing so much work. Arenvald still doesn’t have the control over his echo you do, so while he’s good help, you still need to lead these fights.

There even was a voice in your head when you went on the Whorleater. Worries that the ship would sink, you too, before you can teleport away.

Coerthas is as far away from the ocean as you can think of, and most of the water is frozen, anyway. So that should calm that fear that just wouldn’t quit, even now, long after your fight has passed.

You’re used to the teleport to Dragonhead, the sudden change in oxygen, the large gasp you need as soon as you appear. The knight doesn’t look at you twice, and you just walk around. You know where to find Haurchefant later. At least, you hope so, but for now, your heart won’t stop beating. Your head pounds with each pulse.

You hardly make it off the raised platform before you lose control of your balance.

Fine, perhaps you should find him. You walk into the office, not even announcing yourself. You don’t even know if he looks up. You just hear the noise of a chair almost falling, the heavy clanking of armored footsteps.

And the soothing chill of chainmail against your head. His arms are around you. You know it has to be Haurchefant.

“By the fury,” he says. “What happened to you?”

You barely manage to answer with a single word. “Primal.”

He holds you for the moment. “I can only pray that it fared worse than you. Who was it? Garuda again? Nay, I should have seen you there. What of Titan? Ifrit?”

“Levi-than.” It hurts to talk. You’re not sure any more that it was that fear from before. Mayhap you took a few hits from the primal too many. Especially given the way the fight went on those choppy waves.

“I’ll take you to my room,” he says. “You need the best right now, and no room is better than mine.”

Haurchefant lets go of you, though he laces one of his hands with yours. “Can you walk still? Or would you rather I carry you?”

You don’t trust just one hand on his and place your other there. “Can now.”

You try to keep your eyes open as he leads the way, but you don’t need to. He moves his arm to lead you in directions. You count the number of steps up. At least three storeys. And then it’s a long walk down a hallway. Then the door opens. You count six steps until Haurchefant helps you into the bed.

“Do you need a chirurgeon, my dear? Or do you think it nothing.”

You find a pillow. Your head falls into it. “I can pay.”

He puts his hand on your shoulder. “No, you need not do so. This is the one for all of Dragonhead, and as far as I care, you are part of us. But if you request him, I’ll get him for you, see if you need any help."

The door opens and closes again, You push the covers around so you can slide under them. He was quite right about his bed being comfortable. When you stayed here for a few days with Alphinaud and Cid what felt like moons ago, that room felt stiffer. It was pleasant enough, but the comforter and pillows are made of some kind of down.

You try to sit up and look around. Everything is brilliant in red and black. The fabric of the bed has a few touches of the bright yellow of his collar, and the bed itself is large. It can easily fit two elezen. Perhaps even two Roegadyn in width. A damask print of the symbol on his shield papers the walls. There’s a large bookshelf full of several important-looking books (And some seem to be something more for pleasure), and a lounge with fabric that matches the duvet. You know he was called Lord Haurchefant and not Ser Haurchefant, but he always seemed to lack the frivolity the title carried.

On the lounge and by a dresser, various clothes lay strewn about, some spare armor, others outfits he’d wear on days off.

You try to wait up for Haurchefant and his chirurgeon, but the pounding of your head makes you lay down and rest your head on the pillow. Before you know it, you’re asleep.

When you wake, Haurchefant sits on the lounge reading one of the novels. On his desk sits some food. The window to outside seems dark. How long have you been asleep?

Before you ask, Haurchefant sets the book aside. “I bear the good news that apparently you just pushed yourself too hard, my friend. Some muscles seemed strained, but I can assure you that all they insisted upon is a few days rest.”

A few days? “What if I’m needed for a fight?”

He chuckles to himself and sits next to you on the bed. “Then I shall have to take your linkpearl away, and insist that you not move from this room. They surely know several people with the Echo by now.”

Arenvald, for one, but there is also that free company you kind of are a part of by accident. You count no fewer than four people in that group with some form of the echo. None quite so strong, though immune to branding by primals nonetheless.

You nod your head. “Very well, now that food? Is it for me?”

He nods his head. “Indeed it is, roast karakul, some hardy greens, and some clear broth. I tried to give you some cocoa, but the chirurgeon refused to let me follow through when he saw me.”

“Be sneakier next time,” you say. You push yourself up, place your back against the head of his bed. He places the tray on your lap. "I could use some."

He’s too sweet for all this. You can feel your cheeks redden.

“So, that book you read. What is it about?”

His own cheeks fill with color. “Ah, that is quite a personal question. It is truly nothing of import. Just a collection of stories I quite like.”

You wonder if perhaps there’s something bawdy to them. “Is there any theme?” you ask. “Perhaps I would like to read some.” If they were, perhaps it could give you an idea of what he was interested in. Not that he would be interested, at least with you.

He looks away. “They’re quite saucy. Not exactly meant for mixed company, and I hadn't thought you would—" He clears his throat, and you notice the earlier pink has only deepened with those words. "Would the Warrior of Light like to be seen reading such a thing? Are you not some sort of champion to others?”

“I’m also still a spoken. I can enjoy myself, do as I please. That’s why I came _here_ after the fight.”

He drops the book into his lap and looks you in the eye. “I beg your pardon?”

You take a few sips of the soup, trying to say more, and say it gentler. “Sometimes, I feel like the countries in the Alliance see me as one who fights their battles and triumphs. I have friends, and they always seem grateful for the help, but— here, you always see me as myself first. I—”

You choke back the words. You almost were going to say a few words. _I love you_. You’re not ready yet.

“I appreciate it.”

He smiles. For a second, you see something sparkle in his eye. He closes his eyes and wipes it. “I cannot find the words to tell you how I feel to hear such words from you, my dear friend. That you should consider this camp a place to be yourself. I cannot imagine that others would only see you as what you do. Did so many not see you as you were even before the title?”

You shake your head. “I’m quite certain the Scions see me as just me. But when you have a title like this, there’s always something you should fight.”

Haurchefant just looks at you with a simple smile on his face. “I must warn you, this book can be quite intimate at times, but if you wish, I can read it for you.”

With those words, you laugh and pull it from his hands. “I’m dealing with exhaustion. I can still read for myself.”

You finish your dinner reading the collection of stories. True to his word, they were not simple fairy tales, but there was a humor and awareness to them you couldn’t help but to enjoy it.

The next few days are much of the same, continuing to read the book, Haurchefant trying to sneak sweets up to your meal, and easy conversation.

Right before you leave, fully rested, you give him a hug and think the words in your head. He can’t hear it, and you don’t want him to hear yet, but it helps you prepare for whatever will come in the end.

* * *

 

After what you’ve heard of the theft of goods, you don’t feel like you should hurry back. Alphinaud is a dear friend, but he does not need you for his new Grand Company. Surely another person can help him with his plans.

Haurchefant can’t concentrate for the moment after what happened.

“I’ll need to order everything again,” he says to himself. He doesn’t seem to notice that you haven’t left. He talks about those who know the land. Some importers of some sorts of goods. You think you hear something about smiths as well. That would make sense, given the new company. Uniform weapons would ensure a certain overall quality to test the recruits with.

You clear your throat.

He looks at you, surprised. “I thought you returned to the Rising Stones. You said you were called.”

“You’re—” the words catch in your throat. You want to admit your infatuation. It’s only gotten to be more since then. “One of my best friends,” you decide on. “You help no matter what, and I never have a chance to refuse you.”

“Would you?” he asks. “Would you refuse my help?”

You shake your head. “We need the help. Alphinaud is working on making us more self-sufficient. That we needn’t ask for help from others, but you’re different. You haven’t asked for help from the scions, and give freely.”

Haurchefant stands up and moves around his desk. He takes one of your hands in his. “I believe in the cause. Peace in Eorzea. No more primals. While we fight dragons, I cannot convince others that the Ixal are not a threat to only Gridania. That you’ve fought Garuda twice—” he sighs. “It is a good thing, my dear.”

You try to ignore that affectation. You shouldn’t think there’s more. “What was in the shipments?” you ask.”Perhaps I can find the supplies elsewhere.”

He laughs. “Tis nothing I cannot easily replace. Though there was one thing I had taken a liking to. A gift for you.”

A gift. You cannot hold yourself back. “And just what might that gift be? You needn’t pay for it yourself.”

“I would hate to have you buy your own gift, though I suppose it could be a bit selfish of me, since it was something I admit I thought of seeing you in once. And it was quite costly.”

Costly, wear?

You laugh. “And just what was it? The garments of a Cascadier?”

He doesn’t laugh with you.

“What? It’s not like you did. We’re friends, right?” You choke on the word again.

He turns away from you. “Ah, I knew it was a mistake, an impulse I should not have followed on. It is good that heretics stole such a thing so you would have never known had you guessed correctly.”

You’re not sure he’s talking to you, or just using you to sound his frustrations with himself.

“S-something like that is truly an intimate gift,” you say. You try to keep your voice smooth. At the same time, your heart flutters. It is, and why would he get something like that for a mere friend? Especially since he said he wants to see you in it.

You see the tips of his hair flutter. He doesn’t look at you, but you know he nods.

He says your name again. “You are a friend to me, yes, however, your frequent visits, for both work and pleasure have, pardon, endeared you to me. I’ve always been considered a tease and a bit forward back home, but when I made such offers to you,they were no mere jests, much as I claimed them to be, or offers of mere pleasure.”

He turns around and blinks his eyes so slow it feels like bells pass. He takes your hands in his, and kisses one then the other. “My dear friend, you are more than that to me. My heart is yours, should you take it.”

Three letters. The answer to that is _only_ three letters long. One syllable. You open your mouth, only to find no words come out.

He loves you. He _loves_ you. Your mind can repeat those words a dozen times and each time it's different and new and supporting.

You rip your hands away and run from his office. You only hear the door open again a second before your teleport brings you to Mor Dhona.

That was not the right way. But part of you doesn’t trust you’d say the truth. Or say it in a way he wouldn’t believe you.

Now you just need to find the right words or actions.

* * *

 

It takes you a few days. Most of the other scions are of no help. Alphinaud is busy with the head of the Crystal Braves (his new Grand Company). Urianger is lost in books. Minfilia tries to find answers to questions you know not, and the others are often sent away. You try to approach the other new scions, but most seem a bit nervous about speaking with you. Even Arenvald seems to feel less than you, and he’s been a member since before you joined.

The only one you can find is Tataru, and her plan is, admittedly, quite bold.

You take it anyway. If anything would make your message clear, it is this.

The soonest you have some free time, you teleport to Dragonhead.

There’s a knight near the aetheryte. He notices you, but you can tell there’s something cold about his look at you, when before, each of the knights knew you by name, called you that, not Warrior of Light.

Haurchefant commands respect, and if he thought you rebuffed him, then things may be worse.

“Do the Scions have any leads?” he asks.

If you say no, will he tell you to leave?

The knight gives you a once-over, thick coat covering you below the neck. “Clearly not, I assume, else the Warrior of Light would be in their armor, no?”

You ignore him and know your way. You can only hope Haurchefant is in his office, working on something to forget what you did.

It's One of the others is, though. She doesn’t look up as she reads over some missive. Something feels wrong to see anyone but Haurchefant behind that long desk.

“If you’re looking for Haurchefant, he took the night watch yesterday. His shift ended three bells ago. May I ask your reason for coming here?”

Well, you aren’t going to say everything to someone else. You don’t have any speech prepared, but you do have some things others’ should not bear witness to. You try your best to make it clear you want to speak with him, but the knight only shoots you down with her cold voice.

More hostility from them. Is there anything you can say that will convince her?

"If you think you need to give Haurchefant a proper answer with words," she says. "I can assure you that your silence and sudden disappearance was enough of one. We know you'll keep things _professional_ in the future, no?" That inflection. You get the implied send-off quite well

It doesn’t matter in the end. “You’re mistaken as to my answer, and I do not believe you are a gatekeeper. I know full well where to go.”

You turn heel and make your way to Haurchefant’s room. If he’s asleep, then perhaps you can try again, but you have a feeling that any future visits will have to be kept professional from the welcome you recieved from two of his knights. The one at his desk was one of the most important in Dragonhead from what you recall, Haurchefant’s right hand.

His door isn’t locked. Whether due to forgetfulness or just his trusting nature, you don’t know. Either way, you knock as you enter.

He’s awake still, though you can see the dark circles under his eyes. You caught him just in time. Haurchefant says your name. “I did— I did not expect you to come, not here,” he says. “Not after what I said. Twas truly an embarrassment.”

You shake your head and walk to him. “I was shocked by your confession, but it was only due to the fact I failed to expect such a thing. You’re right in that I had assumed most of your flirting to just be banter. Something to do with friends.”

It doesn’t help he always called you friend. Perhaps it was as hard for him to say as it was for you. Too scared to assume you each saw the other as more.

“I had said that,” he says. “But each time you visited, whether for business or pleasure, it became too clear you were not a friend. You deserve that title the Alliance has given you. You are light, you are hope for the future. That’s what I always see when you come, hear from others who make their way here. Though please, if you have something to say, please make it quick. It is a surprise I am awake so long after a shift, and should you reject my heart, please don’t say anything more.”

You undo your coat. He doesn’t watch.

“Was it true that you had gotten your hands on garments from the Cascadiers?”

You can hear a sigh. “Indeed. Frippery so revealing is quite rare here in Ishgard. Especially these days.”

You drop the coat. “Well turn around, Haurchefant. I think my answer needs no words.”

He does. At first, he does not seem to understand. That you are in little more than the most basic of undergarments as far as most Eorzeans were concerned. You do not have the right fabric, but Tataru worked to make a facsimile of the prints you found in a travelogue.

“Perhaps this is a dream. I am already asleep. Perhaps it wise to wake.”

You walk up and pinch him. “And don’t think this isn’t some peace offering. Some grudging choice to mollify others. It means what you hope.”

He pulls you into his bed. Your arms wrap around his neck. His go to your waist.

Your lips go to one of his ears and you can feel your breath warm him as you speak. “And should you wish, I can say the words as well.”

He smiles. “And just what words are those, my dear?”

“I love you.”

Neither of you move for some time. Despite the fact you only woke up some time ago, you find Haurchefant a siren, drifting off with him in his bed. You don’t wake until much later, when one of the knights comes in to find him for a signature. However, the sight of you two together makes the door close as soon as you know it’s open.

News will have to wait. You want to enjoy this moment for some time.


End file.
